


Universe 1 : Tony Stark nil

by Dewsparkle



Series: Little Stories of the Avenging Kind [11]
Category: Star Trek, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mostly Crack, Short One Shot, Tony Stark is sick of this shit, Tony doesn't fall back to Earth after nuking some peeps outta space, Tony may be slightly concussed, Universe vs Tony Stark, Why Did I Write This?, but its fine, hint: Tony's not winning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 15:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dewsparkle/pseuds/Dewsparkle
Summary: In which Tony Stark is done with the universe's shit and meets the Enterprise crew after nuking the Chitauri.OR, Tony Stark is very quickly coming to the conclusion that the universe had it out for him.





	Universe 1 : Tony Stark nil

**Author's Note:**

> I... don't even know why this exists. That's all I got. I don't know why it exists but why the hell not? This is what happens when I haven't slept in like two days, I come up with weird shit like this. Goddammit brain.

Tony Stark was very quickly coming to the conclusion that the universe had it out for him.

In order for something good to happen, some other shit had to happen as well. He wanted to stop making weapons, but he had to get shrapnel in his chest and months of imprisonment in order for that to happen (which, he didn’t really feel was all that bad. If that hadn’t have happened he wouldn’t be who he was today, but that wasn’t the point). He built his suit to help people, but the person who he once thought he could trust betrayed him for it. And then, there was the real kicker.

In order for him to save the planet from an alien invasion led by an insane god with his bloody glow stick of destiny, he had to fly a nuke through the giant ass portal in the sky the Chitauri were coming from. And then, it only gets better. Instead of falling back through the portal and falling to his death courtesy of the lovely, half destroyed New York pavement and the brutal pessimist that is gravity, he ends up falling through the portal and _into another part of bloody space_ and watch it close behind him.

Tony Stark was not a happy camper.

With his suit powered down because he was in space- mother fucking _space_ , he was losing oxygen fast, along with his consciousness. His last thought being, not that he was going to die out here, wherever here was alone, but that karma was a bitch.

 

The next time Tony found himself aware, which was odd in itself since he was pretty sure he did not have the capacity to survive in space and, therefore, should be very much dead. His suit was not designed for space, and the fact it was so damaged from the battle did not help matters. But anyway, he was still inside his suit, he just wasn’t floating. It actually felt like he was lying on the floor. Which, okay, what?

He blinked his eyes open and found his HUD dark. With a bit of effort, he managed to turn it back on without moving too much- he could hear the voices around him stop abruptly, but he paid them no mind. Now that his suit was on he could talk to JARVIS without being overheard.

“Jarvis, what’s the deal?”

“Systems are at thirteen percent functionality, sir.”

“And the arc reactor?”

“Still functional. It sustained minimal damaged from the lack of atmosphere.”

“Alright, thanks J. Now show me where I am.” Without replying, his screen blipped, albeit fuzzily, to life and he found himself staring up at a white ceiling with people in uniform standing around him. One gold shirt, two blues and a red.

He couldn’t see any weapons on them, and they didn’t look like Chitauri or fucking space Vikings, so he decided to introduce himself. Slowly he pushed himself up into a sitting position, marvelling at the mechanical whirl it caused. Space really was too quiet, Tony Stark did not do quiet.

Grimacing at the pain from the many bruises and probably cracked rib, he noticed everyone in the room had tensed up and were staring at him like he was going to attack. In all fairness he might, only if they did first though. He was just so done with everything right now. He needed a drink. Or thirty. Actually, maybe not, his liver was shrivelled enough as it was, so just one large glass then. Maybe four.

Finally, he managed to pull himself into a standing position and he observed the people in the room. All men. Well except maybe not the dude with the weird haircut and elf ears. It was only then he realised he was being spoken to.

“-Captain James T Kirk of the U.S.S Enterprise, please identify yourself.” So apparently gold shirt was captain of wherever he was. Good, less work for him to talk to the man in charge.

Clearing his throat, he replied through the suit half hoping it would still distort his voice, half just not giving a shit either way. “My name is Tony.”

The group gave each other a look, obviously confused by the name. Thank goodness they seemed to think he was a robot for now, judging by their expressions, it would probably be a lot harder to explain otherwise. Maybe. Did he have a concussion? Was the world supposed to spin like that?

“Okay then, Tony, what are you doing here and what planet do you hail from?” Kirk asked after a beat of silence.

“Doing here? I don’t actually know where ‘here’ is. And I think I’d better withhold my answer to that last question for now.”

“As I told you, you are aboard the U.S.S Enterprise of Starfleet.”

“Starfleet? Like a fleet in the stars, Starfleet. A fleet in space, Starfleet? I’m still in bloody motherfucking space, Starfleet? _Space_?!” Tony exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration, ignoring how they stepped back in preparation for an attack. “Stupid gods and portals and nukes _and fucking space_.” He muttered, before turning back to the group of surprised onlookers.

“Not a robot guys.” Was all he said before he flipped the faceplate up and crossed his arms. Instantly someone had some strange gun in their hand aimed at his head. He rolled his eyes. “Well that’s just lovely isn’t it?”

“Who are you?” Red shirt asked him, with a Scottish accent, which okay _why_. Space. There were no bloody Scottish in space! ... were there?

“Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, former playboy, philanthropist, Ironman and sick of this shit.”

Story of his life, right?


End file.
